


Eternal

by matchamilkteawgrassjelly



Category: ONF (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Explicit Language, Gen, Mild Blood, Minor Injuries, Rebirth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchamilkteawgrassjelly/pseuds/matchamilkteawgrassjelly
Summary: Gods and mortals, pawns in the game of fate. Their connection represented by a thinning thread. In the end, what of their souls will remain?
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10





	Eternal

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my friends, this is my first fic on ao3 :)  
> Special shout out to wjc for being so encouraging of my writing the past months, I would not have started this if it weren't for you guys.
> 
> The story begins a little ambiguous, further details will be explained in later chapters.  
> Please treat me kindly <3

_Do not deny evil, or believe that the world is completely free of malice. Balance is the key to everything. As long as equilibrium is maintained, the sun will continue to rise and the moon will glisten._

_As long as the gods are divine, humanity will remain untouched._

✢ ✢ ✢

The glass shattered on the floor.

"Lord are you alright?"

The man raised his hand, indicating his servant not to take another step forward.

"But my lord-"

"LEAVE."

Every individual in the room quickly filtered out, leaving the divine figure alone in the large hall.

This was not the first time the god had yelled. It wasn't because he wanted to. Frankly, he never thought that a time would come for him to shout at his innocent and kind people. But the pain he'd been experiencing was not normal, and as a god, he couldn't allow himself to appear weak.

At first, he brushed off his decreasing energy as malaise. He was a god, after all, the leader of his kingdom. Immortal. His status, in addition to the type of his domain, made the possibility of him being sick absolutely zero. But then came the headaches. The discomfort soon led to vertigo and the god was confined to his room for the majority of his days, leaving him to rely on his attendants. It was a bit insulting. Of course, as a ruler, he had servants at his beck and call, but it was the fact that he _needed_ them that felt humiliating.

And for their immortal ruler to be suffering, something that was supposed to be _impossible_ , was a fact that needed to be buried deep within the walls.

The chalice lay in broken pieces around his feet, its jagged edges pointing up. It appeared almost threatening.

He collapsed against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The pain was crushing him. It felt like something heavy was pushing against his light body, as if he was being crushed in the palms of another being. The god screamed in pain, his hands tightly gripping the sides of his head. He felt that if he didn't, his brain would explode. The pressure was so high that his soul was about to burst from being contained for so long.

The torment brought the god to his knees.

_Bang bang._ The doors to the hall.

"Lord, please! Let me in!"

Weakened by his condition, the barriers he had put up around himself began to crumble. The man at the door broke through the entrance and ran to the divine being on the ground.

"Why would you tell your attendants to leave you alone? What would you do if I had not sensed your waning presence?" The man aided the god to his seat. Oddly, he felt lighter, as if his soul was no longer dense and strong.

The episode began to fade, and slowly his vision of the room began to settle. Balancing himself on the armrests, the god straightened his back to sit up.

Breathing deeply, he spoke in a low voice. "You should not have been able to enter."

"Yet I was able to, not because of my own strength but because of your weakening energy."

"No, you’re mistaken. I’m still your leader. I'm just... tired."

"Tell me that all of this is simply because you're tired one more time, and I will call upon the other gods to hurt you."

At that remark, the god let out a small laugh. "It always brings me comfort to know that as much as you want to fight me, you will never be able to."

The other man grunted in annoyance and walked towards the glass shards on the floor. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his red handkerchief to clean the mess, carefully handling the sharp edges. This was the second glass the god had dropped due to his headaches, the attendant realized. 

He felt uncomfortable. 

Diligently picking up the broken glass, he gathered the smaller shards into a pile so it could be swept up later. He paused again while soaking up the spilled wine. Something had caught his eye.

A drop of red within the white liquid.

"What is this?" He asked. The panic in his voice was evident.

"It's white wine, why-"

"No. This red pigment." His head whipped around to face his divine leader, but the god avoided his challenging gaze, refusing to acknowledge his findings. This led to the man striding back to the throne, and demanding his leader to present his hands.

The god resisted, curling his fingers to hide his palms and pulling his hands back to avoid the confrontation.

"SHOW ME YOUR HANDS."

He took advantage of the god's weak body, and positioned himself over the god to gather more strength. Pulling his arms outwards, the man pried open the god's fists to unveil the wound on his skin.

The wound was a clean cut, nothing out of the norm. Although he was the leader of his kingdom, he was actually fairly clumsy. But this wound should have been healed by the time the man had entered the hall. As an immortal god, their healing and regenerative abilities happened immediately after contact. But his wound was still open and bleeding, and what was more concerning was the color that surrounded it. 

The color of the altruistic gods was replaced with a symbol of weakness and imperfection. 

"Your blood is red. It's red, not gold..." he faltered.

Snapping his arms out of the man's grip, the god used what little strength he had left to push himself out of the other man’s grasp and out of his chair. He was desperate to avoid the conversation he inevitably knew was coming. 

"It's nothing," he declared.

"Nothing? You want to say that this is nothing?" The man went after the god, grabbing his shoulder to pull him back to face him. The two locked eyes, neither of them yielding their strong and steady gaze.

The ebbing god, and his loyal dependent.

"You are bleeding like a mortal."

The man's eyes began to quiver, his face displaying immense concern for his lord, after the realization of what his words could mean. His grip on the other loosened, arms falling in defeat. The god simply nodded, giving up his antics. He brushed past the man, walking towards another door in the room. Understanding immediately, the man followed.

The healing garden was the core of the lord's existence. Through the large wooden doors from the main hall, a corridor led to an entrance that was defined by intertwining branches, its frail twigs lined with dainty buds that had yet to bloom. It opened up to a large and vast area, with the sky as its roof and the rest of the heavens in its view. A cage-like structure framed the space, its gold color gleaming against the sunlight.

Unlike the other kingdom, where life never thrived, the garden was continually in season. Whether it was the garden that fed the divine god's energy, or the other way around, is unknown. But the two always grew in constant harmony, you could not have one without the other. The health of either was never a concern, both the garden and the god were always alive. 

And no one ever went against the divine ruler’s word. The god was always leading, his powerful voice speaking below to the lower deities and angels, and everyone obliged. His eyes glimmered the same way the sun's rays peeked from the clouds, his voice gentle and soft like silk on skin. All of his orders for tranquility ensured that order was established, prioritizing happiness and prosperity for his people. The leader's gestures were pure and innocent, and everyone respected him greatly.

But the divine god knew that one day, his time would have to come to an end. Indeed, he was immortal, and his word could not be challenged. Yet although he reigned the peaceful side of the border, power was essential to enforce his authority. The mortals had lived cooperatively for a millennium, but the old legend's timeframe was due to be reset again.

He knew immediately that the date of his passing was creeping closer and closer. The blossoming flowers that had once surrounded the entire space were now wilting. The vibrant colors of white and pink turned to dark grey. Just like himself, the garden was slowly fading away. The usual restless sounds of nature were absent, and only the hollow sounds of his footsteps were heard. 

The quiet air was still and heavy, and only their breaths served to create a flow of energy.

All the life that this sacred enclosure held was dying.

"Your flowers... they're wilting in the healing garden," he stated. The man turned to the lord. "How long has this been going on?"

Ignoring his question, the lord walked deeper into the garden. The architecture around the garden directed the focus towards the center, highlighting the soaring plant. A prodigious weeping willow tree stood tall, its branches bending over to create a protected space. The branches curved over as if they were forming a shield for the divine.

Leaving the stone paths, the lord brushed aside the reeds, and entered the shaded spot. He gestured to the other man to join him on the grass.

"Lord, please answer me," the man begged. "This is not a simple matter. If what I believe is true, then we must prepare. The other side must be changing as well!" The divine lord simply nodded and gestured once more to invite the other man by his side. Reluctantly, the other obliged.

The lord took a deep sigh before looking up. What once was filled with beautiful and delicate petals, was now brittle wood.

"It started around a month ago. There was a storm of petals in the garden. The wind picked all those little pieces off and wrapped them up in a torrent. For a second it looked beautiful. They were dancing in the air. But of course, they all dropped to the stone floor."

He turned to look at the man beside him. Seeing the other's furrowed eyebrows, he gave a small reassuring smile.

"The freesias began to lose their color. Vivid reds and yellows, they all faded. The whites turned to greys. Before they used to open up to the sky, and now they point to the ground. The garden is quiet. There are no birds here. No more breezes. I don't hear the wind, only my heavy sighs. "

The god leaned back against the willow and closed his eyes, continuing his story. "I didn't want to believe it. It feels too soon. Rather selfish of me to say that though. The mortals don't even get to live half the life we do."

"Far less than half," the other said sternly.

The god chuckled. "Yes yes, I know. And that's okay."

Frustrated, the attendant brushed his hands through his hair, as if clearing it from his vision would have the same effect on his mind. "I can't accept this. The mortals have been living fine, there is no need for us to intervene anymore."

“You know that is not true. If their world falls to corruption again-”

“The previous leader. He’s still there, is he not?”

"Then the distinction between mortals and the divine will begin to blur-”

“My lord if the mortals are not safe then-”

“Then _I, the next god of peace_ , will continue to make sure they are safe."

His attendant broke his stare and looked at his hands, now silent in defeat. He began to fidget with his fingers to settle his feelings of uneasiness. 

"My lord, if you leave now, then who's light shall I follow?"

Another laugh, but this time more quietly. "You've always been one to be formal with me." He repositioned himself to face the other, taking his hand and stroking it gently. "Even you lost track of time..."

There was a brief stillness between the two gods. A moment of calm before the storm that would awaken from their emotions.

"I'm sorry that you will have to be alone once again," the god spoke under his breath.

Tears began to form in the other man's eyes. Removing his hand from the god's grasp, he quickly wiped his face and sniffled, turning the other way.

It was difficult for him to say goodbye again. His connection to the previous leader was strong, but not as intricate as it was to the current ruler. He had picked him up from when he was in shambles after parting ways the first time, and the man swore to continue serving the ruler of this kingdom until fate decided that his life was no longer needed.

The divine god was in many ways similar to the previous leader, but in him burnt a brighter flame. A stronger desire to protect his domain from succumbing to chaos. While the previous leader cared for the lives of the mortals down below, the divine god focused more on his own people. Neither of these attitudes was better than the other, but the god's concerns were more represented of his kind. This made the man feel recognized, made him feel important. As a god with a lower status, his power was not as impeccable as others. But the high being acknowledged his efforts and wisdom, and chose to keep him by his side.

His anxious body felt the lump in his throat growing, and the weight on his chest broadening. Still looking away, he asked the delicate question between pauses. It took everything in him to muster the words out of his mouth.

"Do you know when you are leaving?"

The god spoke quietly. "Soon."

"How soon?" The man’s voice expressed desperation.

"Sooner than you think..." the god faltered. "And I am sorry for not telling you sooner."

A pause.

"Will you be okay?"

"Of course I will."

Another.

“Will you come back?”

“Of course,” the divine god replied, but not before hesitating. The attendant caught his uncertainty.

The god wasn’t okay. As much as he wanted to play the hero and ensure peace among the mortals, he wanted to stay here in his home, with his people. 

But what scared him most was that his priority might change. Just like the previous leader.

It was rare for mortals to be purely kind. The society they had built amid themselves was prone to corruption, the sin of greed present in the back of their minds at every time. It would take more energy, devotion, and power to win this battle against his opponent. But if everything went well, then the aftereffects would be more than rewarding. He wished he had more time to prepare.

Amusing. An immortal god, not prepared to leave, because he didn't have enough time.

The two sat in silence. It was unspoken, but both of them knew that this was their last moment together. The quiet air was suffocating, and it felt wrong for either to make a single whisper. Time flowed and eventually, they let their eyes close and bodies reset. It was just the two figures, side by side, settled within the shadow of the willow leaves.

The attendant didn't know how much time had passed before he had awakened. He was confused for a few seconds before remembering where he was, and who he was with. He immediately sat upright, taking a look around the garden to orient himself, before placing his eyes on the transcendent figure beside him.

He knew he was gone.

His skin had gone pale and was cold to the touch. The pink color from his lips was turning blue, and his black hair began to fade to white.

The man reached over and embraced the god into his arms. He pulled his shoulders towards his chest, and rested his cheek on the top of his head. Cradling his body, he felt the lump in his throat reappear. He pulled him tighter, hoping that it would ease the stabbing pain in his chest, _in his heart_ , but he couldn't prevent the feeling from disappearing. The god's body began to break. The cool sensation at his fingertips was replaced with nothingness. The pressure of his body pressing against the man was lifted. The other was breathing heavily, trying to keep himself calm and collected. It was all he could do as the god began to crumble into gold ashes.

The willows protected him, cloaking his sorrow. The shadow covered his trembling body, hiding his tears and cries. It felt like an eternity sitting there, staying still, holding on to something that was turning into nothing.

At that spot he remained, enveloping his arms around the divine lord until he was left with embers. 

✢ ✢ ✢

On the other side of the transcendent border, a dagger pierced the air, landing with a sharp thud into the hardwood.

"You usually never miss. Is something wrong my lord?"

The tall god clicked his tongue in annoyance, not bothering to hide his frustration. He tossed the dagger back and forth between his hands before settling on his right. Playing with the weapon between his fingers, he shifted his weight as he took a step back.

The god's eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on the small red target in the field. He recalled his moments a couple of days before today's training session. Lately, he was feeling _off_.

His head felt like it was splitting into two. He put it off as stress but in reality, he knew that it could be no such thing. As if the target was his temple, a sharp sting would call during the night. During the day, the world would spin. The kingdom that was supposedly within his hands would seem to spiral out of his reach, leaving the god to collapse into a stance that seemed to make him look much more insignificant.

His endless training sessions and position of authority gave him control and power, qualities he would use to fight until his last breath to defend his domain. Although he was a god, there were times where he was strained and exhausted. Minor injuries were normal, his skills lied in fighting and defense after all. His strength was no doubt unmatchable, but he'd have the occasional cuts and bruises on his skin. However, he usually wouldn't be able to _find_ them. His skin would heal as quickly as it'd been cut, until now. The recent scars he found on his limbs indicated something was changing.

And his blood. A god's blood. A liquid meant to be so deep and dark, coursing through his body to deliver energy throughout his divine body. And yet he had seen the gash remain open and vulnerable, the liquid running down his arm, dripping at his fingertips. A rustic shade taking place of the dense black. It's splatter on the floor looking so _mortal_.

The god raised his right arm and brought it down in a swift stroke, sending the blade to the other side to make contact with the red point once again.

Another miss.

"How many has that been?" He asked his attendant.

"That was your third one."

He threw the dagger once more. This time, it landed right in the center.

He stood there in silence. 

He was a _god_. 

And not just a simple god, he was the ruler of his kingdom. Something as simple as throwing a dagger should've been easily accomplished.

All of his life was spent training and fighting to protect what he claimed. Nothing was out of his power or reach. With his skills, everything could be attainable. His attendant was right, usually, he never missed. His skill level was far too high to make such a mistake. There were far more serious and difficult situations where the god had reigned victorious. He _knew_ he was supposed to perform well, it was just a fact.

Eager to leave, the god's large strides guided him out of the training grounds. His stoic eyes fixated in front of him, ignoring the shouts of the one he left behind. 

How ridiculous of him to not comprehend his condition sooner. He realized too late what was happening to him, and it was a high possibility that his attendant caught the small details from his behavior. It was apparent now that his fate could not be hidden any longer. Before his body crumbled, he needed to move to a private area where he could leave in peace.

He left the grounds and made his way to the spot where no one would be able to find him, a secluded area where he'd be able to think. A place of secrecy to escape the judging eyes that scrutinized his every breath.

The harsh reality was that his condition was getting worse. If word got out that their immortal leader was dying, the delicate thread of trust between him and his people would effortlessly snap. Something the god had worked so hard to string together.

His quick perception and instincts caught the attention of the higher gods. He was born with power, with strong energy coursing through his veins. More advanced than his peers. The young god was recognized for his strength, and ultimately the potential to rule this land. Blessed by the former leader's circle, they took him in and trained him to be stoic and resilient. 

To command, to discipline, and to protect.

To achieve his desires.

Connecting his body’s condition to the history of the divine, he realized it was the legend of the war. It explained the excruciating headaches and unsteadiness, the flaming pigment of his blood. Told as a plain tale to prevent children from crossing the border, the legend remained a common story, but not one to be taken seriously. That is, amongst the others. The god knew better than to act naive, and was grateful to his younger self for having studied the legend well enough to remember the key details. Now, he was able to understand that his fate was tied into the tale. Everything was all true.

His ebbing spirit was evident of that.

Thinking about his advancing future, the god now carried more pressure on his shoulders. If he were to succeed, he'd be able to continue his immortal life. If he were to lose against his opponent…

The god pushed the thought away. A master of war like him couldn't accept defeat. No, he _wouldn't._ Losing would not be an option.

And then came his conflicted feelings. Of course, leaving his kingdom would not be an easy decision, but excitement crept up his spine as he thought about how influential he could be down there. The adrenaline that came along the journey of attaining more power fed his hungry desire. His eyes glistened, and the ends of his lips inched up to form a smirk. It was another chance to demonstrate his prestige. He would show everyone again that he belonged at the top.

Sitting at the throne. Commanding his people. Dominating his opponents.

Standing on top of their lifeless bodies.

Halfway across the path, the god stopped. The ringing came back. His head pounded again. He screamed out in pain, his low timbre echoing against the stone walls that bordered his sector. The torture brought the god to his knees, his skin scraping against the cold stone. He pushed against his head with his hands, palms pressing his temples and fingers curling around his strands of hair, as if the external pressure would cure the internal thunder in his mind.

The sound of footsteps in the distance became louder as his attendant caught up. He was panting and out of breath, but still had enough energy to lecture the other for running off without a warning.

"My lord! Please do not run off so abruptly!"

The god cried out again before feeling the warmth of a hand on his shoulder. His attendant crouched down to assess him. His face showed no surprise, almost as if he was expecting this to happen. Pulling a handkerchief from his jacket, he wiped the beads of sweat from the god's cold forehead. The god groaned and shoved his attendant away. He stood up, ready to rush off once more, before collapsing again into the other's arms.

"My lord, please."

"I'm fine."

The attendant stared into the divine being's eyes. He spoke quietly and cautiously. "No, you're not."

"You dare to challenge my word?" The god snapped.

"You think I don't know what's been happening?" He countered.

They were silent for a moment. His response took the god by surprise. No one was supposed to know of his pain. He had thought he was hiding his condition so well. The god made sure that almost no one was around him, and used his power to keep up barriers around himself to prevent anyone from entering his sector. Before he could respond the other spoke.

"The sound of your coughs reverberate so loudly they can be heard through closed doors. I knew there was a reason why you limited the number of men standing guard in your residence. And the daggers, I know you have better aim than that."

"I'm just tired. Don't be mistaken."

"I was always honored whenever you allowed me the opportunity to spar with you. Your strength and focus have always managed to take me down. Even after hours of training you never lost your balance and always defeated your opponent."

"What does that have to do with-"

"You never miss." He looked into the god's strong and heavy gaze as he spoke with his orotund voice. "My lord, you never miss."

Slowly, he brought the god to his feet, draping one of his arms over his own shoulder to support. The pain had subsided, but the god knew it would come banging again in just a couple of moments. His breathing pattern steadied as the other gently guided him forward.

The attendant gave a small smile. "I am your attendant, your helper, your servant, whatever you would like to call me. It would be humiliating for me to be unaware of your pain, considering how much time I've spent by your side"

"I am your god. You think I’d let myself be hurt so easily?”

"Yet here you are. Your expression does not lie, my lord."

"I don't need you to help me."

"But I need you." The divine lord tilted his head to look at the other man. His face had shown no expression earlier, but it was now painted with concern as he furrowed his brows and bit his lip. "I need you to rule this land, and if you must leave, then do your job well in order to come back. Please."

The god looked away and cleared his throat. "Leave me be."

"The willow tree?"

His attendant knew him too well. The god gave him a defeated nod, and the two followed the path in silence.

Their slow steps eventually led to the spot in the shade, and the flashes of pain had all finally receded from the god's body. He gathered his strength to collect himself and walk on his own, trudging off the path to the sheltered area below.

The large willow tree stood tall near a lake, a few feet away from the bottom of the sloped hill, straying from the stoned pathway they were supposed to follow. In its vicinity were many rocks, and boulders, placed by the divine god, in order to prevent wandering bodies from discovering his spot. Any signs of existence in the area were covered by the trees weeping branches, its nettles protruding from its arms to provide coverage.

His steps were light as he made his way down the bank, treading on spots of gravel and carefully identifying which slabs were stable to cross with. His attendant followed suit, and both men were observant as to not trip over any roots before finally sitting down against the trunk. Their legs stretched across the ground, toes almost touching the edge of the river.

"You haven't asked me anything," the god spoke in a low tone.

His attendant lowered his head. "I would not dare to pry unnecessarily."

"You can speak comfortably."

The other man looked around for any other ears before focusing his attention back on the powerful being in front of him.

"How long has this been going on?"

"It's been around a month since the headaches. With it came the ringing in my head, and the coughs. My chest kept feeling tight but I thought it was the soreness from fighting."

"But it wasn't."

"Yeah it fucking wasn't." He gave a small laugh, trying to keep the mood light, before turning to look at the other man.

His attendant’s pale complexion was brightly reflected off the neutral tone of his hair. The god often wondered how someone like him was born into his kingdom. His features were ethereal, and without a doubt, they screamed greatly of a divine being. But they were soft and smooth, immensely contrasting his own harsh and calloused surface.

"When are you leaving?"

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"Sooner than you think. But I'm fine. I'm not afraid. But I do have to ask, you knew what was going to happen to me, didn't you?"

His attendant smiled. "Of course."

"And you didn't tell me beforehand?"

"Well, you already knew about it."

"Yeah through that stupid tale they tell you when you're a child. I didn't know that it was actually true and that it'd happen to me. Not until later anyways. If I had more time, I would've-"

"You've had plenty of time my lord." He turned towards the divine being, shifting his body so he was kneeling in front of him. He took his hands, placing them in his lap. "You've proven many times that you are worthy of holding this high position, as the ruler of this kingdom. It's been an honor for me to be alongside your journey and witness your growth.”

The god dismissed the other man's touching words, removing his hands from the other's grasp. He made a disgusted expression and jokingly stated, "I'm not sure you belong in my domain."

His attendant laughed, and stayed seated as the god rose. He moved closer to the lake, crouching down by the edge, observing his reflection. Clear as day, the god saw himself. All-powerful, almighty, absolute. He reached over and lowered his hand into the water. It was cold and light. His soul would eventually become similar to this feeling. 

Sweeping his hand across the water, the reflection became distorted by the ripples. The perfect reflection now characterized by vulnerability, reminding him of how defenseless he’d be down there. 

Fate was interesting like that. It chose you and controlled you, no matter how much power you had. God or human, it was all the same.

“My lord, your people will continue to trust you to protect them. They live in your shadows, under your cover, within _your_ hands."

“I understand,” he muttered under his breath.

He released a deep sigh as he moved away, pressing his back against a nearby boulder for support. His eyes looked over the river, and then past it towards the rest of his kingdom. 

"Do you think it'll be easier to influence the mortals?" He asked.

"Every mortal carries a flame, burning with their own desires. Often that flame is snuffed out. They live under the premise that the collective outweighs the individual. But of course, that only leaves them to be vulnerable."

The god nodded his head in agreement. "And it is my duty to keep that flame alive."

"Awaken their desires, my lord. Show them what true power means. Without power, you cannot protect yourself, and those you love,"

Despite his confident diction, the god knew that underneath his easy-going personality - his facade, lay anxiety. Those feelings would not be easily resolved with simple words, and so the god remained quiet. He was never one to be reliable when another needed comfort, and so he continued to look straight ahead.

The sound of the water calmed his mind, the cold stone numbing his worn down back, marked with scars. Although he didn't show it, the other man's presence was comforting to the god. He has someone who genuinely cared about him, and that was a trait not readily displayed by the people of this kingdom. 

"I'm tired. Let me rest," the god instructed with a flat tone. He was hiding his emotions. And without another word or glance towards his companion, he closed his eyes.

"Yes my lord."

Hiding within the shadows, he sat there, dragging his fingers over the dirt and gravel in graceful strokes. The branches curved over to protect the picture on the ground, one that would soon lose its key focus. The attendant was calm while watching his leader drift into a deep sleep. He watched his chest rise and fall in perfect rhythm, before finally becoming perfectly still. The color of his skin turned pallor, the shade of rose on his lips became faded, and his rich black hair shifted to white.

Without moving from his spot, he watched as the divine god crumbled. Pieces broke off and rode the flow of the wind. The gold ashes continued to flare, it's glow was both like blazing agony and luminous hope. Buds began to sprout from where the ashes met the dirt, and they would soon bloom into a fiery cluster, a flower that only grew with death.

He now understood why this particular spot meant so much to his lord. Yes, it hid him from the rest of the people in the kingdom, but the weeping willows also cloaked his sorrow. Here, he was able to allow himself to be free. He could acknowledge the pain and hurt within his soul, break it apart, and then heal it. 

The shadows which were protecting the divine lord were now guarding the attendant, hiding his escaped tears. He sat there for what may have felt like an eternity, drowning in his grief. 

The man was alone now, with only the red spider lily by his fingertips to remember his god. 

✢ ✢ ✢

Hundreds of thousands of years ago, the two sides were civil. They agreed to disagree on their way of life, and an unspoken rule left no one to be daring enough to cross the border between the two powers. Each side had turned a blind eye towards the other until one day, the truce between the Gods was destroyed. 

It is unclear which side took the first step, but angels and lower deities from both ends had traveled to the forbidden land. The land of humans. A greedy and selfish, yet beautiful decision. 

What had piqued the interest of the immortals? The animals down below carried no power. Their short lives and wrecked emotions brought upon more grief than pleasure. Yet their lives continued long enough for them to build some sort of a class system. It was comical to see the small bodies work their lives away at rising up the ranks, carrying the false belief that they could gain power. If they knew that their fragile lungs and delicate hearts could easily be crushed within the palms of the divine, would they maintain their minuscule sense of pride?

Perhaps it was their ability to be vulnerable. Their acceptance of their weaknesses, and their continued perseverance despite those flaws. Perhaps it was the unpredictability of human life, the way they fluctuated between betrayal and affection, that posed a challenge to the undying souls above. 

This disruption did not sit quietly with the higher deities. The decision to leave the heavens, to betray and insult their kind, resulted in a war. 

The gods, who had always remained in power, had allowed those weak humans to rise above them. 

And so the deities had cursed the rebels with immense torture. A single breath would bring the burn of fire in their chest, and a step called for the stings from piercing knives.

After years of being tossed around, the revels were finally able to free themselves from the strings that had bound them to the hands above. Their bodies suffered, eventually losing the strength to fight back against their punishment. The angels decided that they would give up a part of their souls to stand on equal ground with the humans. They would be mortal. They would experience death and decay, eventually becoming a part of the earth’s dirt. 

Free from their shackles, they began to mingle with the lives of the mundane. Digging deeply, they forced open their sealed hearts to feel love, hope, wrath, and greed, emotions that the stoic Gods never believed were relevant for their beings. The relationships between the two groups became further intertwined, and following the course of human life, children were born. Although their bodies were mortal, flowing in the veins of the fallen angels were remnants of their divine spirits. As a result, these children, both celestial and mortal, had the power to change the dynamic on earth. 

The half-bloods grew to carry the aseity and perfection of the gods, with the contrasting innocent and sinful traits of humans. Initially they were intrigued with their history, and attempted to place themselves in the gods’ favor, hoping for a chance at immortality. However, after establishing connections with different humans, they strayed away from their divinity. 

Instead of striving to become an immortal being in the heavens, they directed their focus towards their own kind. The mixed breeds desired to become higher beings directly in front of the humans, to become the center of all action, rather than a viewer on the sides. They climbed the ladders to achieve titles of power, and used their status to play with the lives of the humans among them. Like a puppeteer and his marionettes, the word ‘free-will’ was a chain in disguise. The mortals were simply pawns in the game of the gods. Like a chessboard, they were only ever allowed to take one step forward. The mixed breeds hovered over the world, their hands clawing at each other, trying to remain superior. 

Through generations, their self-awareness of their divine blood waned, and in their minds, they had become fully and wholly mortal. The greed fueled by their divine blood began to fade, and those individuals started to blend in with everyone else.

Those born from the soldiers of the passive spread love and kindness. They lived their normal mundane lives, working endlessly against the other to achieve a utopia for themselves and the mortals. They found ways to live peacefully among them, and use their status to uplift everyone around them. Their actions sprouted from their good hearts, and they cared for every human they met. Healers, leaders, educators. Lovers.

And those who carried the blood of the destructive manifested pain in all the humans they met. Their desire to remain in power resulted in their harmful and toxic actions. Each decision was made only if it was beneficial for themselves. Their avarice and selfishness were maintained through the lineage, now manifested in more prosaic forms. Cheaters, liars, abusers. Murderers.

The balance in the human world was destroyed.

Any sense of equilibrium was now hanging on a delicate thread.

Divine blood had reached humanity, and its course would continue to flow.

The gods above no longer had control among their own kinds in the mortal realm. They were far too rebellious. To be able to change anything at all, they would have to move, become anew. The gods would have to bend their titles and give up their divinity.

It was a constant fight between the gods of each side, lasting thousands of years. Both kingdoms continued to bicker on whom to place the blame.

"You of all the gods here should understand how threatening it is to be interacting with mortal life. That itself is a crime you must take responsibility for."

"And your people didn't stay there as well? Have you seen what they've done? Is it a characteristic for those of your kingdom to bring about conflict in every situation? Is that how you feed your egos? Do the mortals insult your authority?"

"And what of your people huh? Falling in _love_. A god and a mortal. Do you really think that our kinds will be able to mix freely? Our pure and godly blood will now course through their dirty veins. And what will that make of us then? How will we be any different than those worthless animals?"

"Worthless? Does that make it okay to _kill_?"

The deities of peace strayed from their pure manners and became defensive, aggressively refuting any claims that the imbalance was their responsibility. It became difficult for the gods to discuss in an organized manner. Quiet and soft-spoken words morphed into screams and accusations. Those of chaos became even more daring, taking steps forward and becoming dangerous offenders. Their words were taunting and provoking, fearlessly spouting foul and vile language. This was their way of protecting themselves. However, their hostility almost resulted in their domain stepping foot across the transcendent border.

And if a god ever placed their mark on opposing territory again, the world would be swept by something so cataclysmal that even the all-powerful rulers wouldn't be able to raise their hands. The divine could not risk another war. History could not be repeated.

The fear of a universal devastation ushered the leaders to come forth and to an agreement. The god of peace, as virtuous as he could be, would not budge from his position. The god of chaos, as expected, did not hesitate to press forward his recriminations in order to protect.

There are many interpretations of what exactly was said to instigate the mediation of the two kingdoms. The legend did not explicitly describe the details, but it was agreed that both sides were to hold responsibility for the actions of those who left the heavens. Ultimately, the sentence for those crimes required a sacrifice from the divine.

Every millennium, the leaders of each side would be reincarnated as humans. Their divine death was to make up for the mortal lives that suffered. Reincarnation would compel the gods to understand the complexities of mortal life as they grew from toddlers to adults. They were to experience their paradoxical emotions and thoroughly grasp the weight and significance of their lives.

But of course, considering the pride of the divine beings, they would not allow themselves to give up their immortality so easily.

And so each god would begin to grow up living a normal life. There would be no recollection or memories of their former divine selves, their status, or their powers. After understanding the intricacies of human life, the protection would wear off when the reincarnated souls turned twenty. Their perceptions and purpose would align. To regain their immortality and power as divine gods, those reincarnated were to eliminate or convert the other side's mixed breeds on earth. The objective was to spread the influence of the god's corresponding kingdom in the mortal world in order to remain superior and authoritative. With careful deductions, those skilled enough would be able to conclude which individuals had divine blood, and what their lineage was.

The gods were also to kill each other. The rival god’s death meant the removal of their influence, allowing the other to have full control of the human world. It was a perfect way to remove the obstacle in their course back to divinity, but the asperities of murder were interpreted differently between each god. 

The legend is told to the young deities as a bedtime story. Many do not believe in its words. Interacting with the mortals, leaving the heavens, creating a new breed - surely the divine souls would never risk becoming so polluted. But those who held great power knew the impact of the legend on their former leaders.

Those who accepted the legend's described fate, and those who refused. Although they held conflicting perspectives, every god understood the phrases that ruled their sides.

_The gods of peace will not fight. We will honor every life in this place, and spread our sanctitude._

_The gods of chaos will live for ourselves. We will not hesitate to use our strength to protect our own people._

_Those whose souls have been corrupted can still become good._

_Those who betray us will face punishment._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The first sentence is a reference to Soul Eater - if you read/watched it then you earn a gold star.
> 
> I'd also love to see who you guys think each character is so far :)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mat_yonnaise)


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